


Control

by ethereousdelirious



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Caretaking, Fever, Gen, Illnesses, M/M, Sickfic, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24275947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethereousdelirious/pseuds/ethereousdelirious
Summary: [Fill for a fic trade]I put them both in the same fic because they both ended up with heavy themes of control/loss of control due to an illnessChapter 1: Charles tries to hold a band meeting while sick with a sinus infection. Pickles notices he isn't feeling well and takes control.Chapter 2: Toki drops by to visit Magnus only to find him suffering from the flu. A feverish Magnus struggles to keep his emotions in check.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I actively to write Pickles/Charles as a romantic relationship and actively tried to write Magnus & Toki as platonic and somehow managed to do the exact opposite 🤦🏼🤦🏼🤦🏼  
> Anyway as with any art you're free to interpret this how wish, but now you at least know what I was aiming for

The lacquered tabletop was cool under Charles' hands. He braced himself against it and lifted his head, blinking away stars. Despite the strictly monitored DayQuil dosing schedule he'd put himself on, he still felt awful.

  
"Fuck's the matter with you?" Pickles' voice echoed through the static in Charles' head. "Hellooo? You in there?"

  
Charles forced himself to stand upright even though the effort made his head spin. "Just waiting for you all to, ah, quiet down," he said pointedly. "You done?"

  
"Are _you_ done?" Murderface demanded.

  
Charles was too tired to dignify that with a response, so he just stared for a moment, stony-faced. "I wanted to talk to you guys about a new option for your merchandise. I've had some new design ideas drafted for hoodies--"

  
"Why is it always hoodies with you?" Nathan interrupted.

  
"Your fans certainly seem to like them," Charles said, and kept going before the others could start dogpiling him again. "I just need to get your approval on the design before we start manufacturing them." He flipped open the manila folder in front of him and then had to pause as a sense of violent vertigo threatened to knock him to the ground.

  
"Huh, we ams going to dick-stributes this design?" Skwisgaar said derisively. "File folders ams not brutal."

  
Charles, still reeling, did not answer. He just had to get through this meeting, and then he could slip into the sweet orange embrace of DayQuil and do his work in silence.

  
"Wait, lemme see that." Nathan leaned over the table and picked up the folder, causing all the papers inside to flutter out onto the table.

  
"Those are the designs," Charles said, trying not to let his irritation seep through into his voice. It wasn't the band's fault he was sick and it wouldn't do any good to antagonize them.

  
"Well how the fuck we were we supposed to know that?" Pickles demanded.

  
"Please just approve of the designs so we can wrap this up." A sharp pain had started up in Charles' left ear, an unwelcome companion to the dull ache of his sinuses. Great, so now he was going to have to try to make time to go to the doctor to get this probable ear infection addressed.

  
"Let me take a crack at thosche," Murderface picked up one of the prints. "Yeah, I dunno, maybe you could have a true metal connoisscheur make some," he paused, presumably for dramatic effect, "improvementsch."

  
Charles' head pulsed. The room spun. He leaned forward again, gripping the table for support. "Please just approve the designs. The sooner you approve them, the sooner we can start producing the hoodies, which will bring in more revenue--"

  
"What ams revenue?" Toki interrupted.

  
"Money."

  
"You mean these shitty designs will make people give us money?" Nathan demanded. "Why didn't you lead with that? Fuck yeah we approve."

  
"Excellent." Not bothering to formally end the meeting or even to collect his papers, Charles turned to leave. It was an awkward, slow process. He had to move carefully to avoid igniting further episodes of vertigo.  
The walk back to his office was going to be a nightmare. Carefully, Charles walked down the hall, one hand planted firmly on the wall to help him stay oriented. If he just kept his eyes straight ahead…

  
"Hey, wait up!" Pickles' voice sounded from behind him.

  
Charles took a deep breath and tried to rally. "Yes, Pickles? Please try to keep it short; I'm very busy."

  
"I know, chief." Heedless of personal space, Pickles eased up next to Charles and managed to arrange himself so Charles' arm was draped over his shoulder. He started walking, seeming to lead Charles along and support his weight.

  
"So is there something I can help you with?" Charles prompted. It wasn't appropriate to be this close to Pickles, not out in the open where anyone could see, but he had to admit it was nice. He kept his gaze fixed on his office door and his hands curled into fists.

  
"Umm…" Pickles scratched his head with his free hand. "Yeah. There was something."

  
Charles sighed, trying to hide the exasperation behind it. His head throbbed and a wave of vertigo sent him listing sideways into Pickles.

  
"Whoa there!" Pickles didn't stop walking, but did adjust his arm to better support Charles. "You drunk?"

  
"No, I-- I just tripped." It was a lame excuse, but Charles was too exhausted to think of anything better. He couldn't understand why Pickles was walking him to his office. What ulterior motive could he possibly have?

  
"Here we go!" Pickles tried the door to Charles' office. It was locked.  
Charles tried to pull away. "The key's in my pocket," he explained when Pickles gave him a questioning look.

  
"I got it." With no other warning than a shift in posture, Pickles reached around and deftly slid his hand into Charles' pocket.

  
Charles went still, powerless to stop the furious blush that stained his cheeks. He couldn't speak and didn't even try, just stood there frozen.

  
"Here we go!" Pickles got the key and unlocked the door. Then he escorted Charles to his desk chair.

  
"What are you doing?" Charles asked. Pickles seemed to have ascertained that he was having a hard time keeping his balance, but how? Surely his control hadn't slipped that much during the meeting.

  
"You looked a little dizzy, that's all." Satisfied that Charles was comfortable, Pickles stepped back. "You don't have to get all gay about it or whatever, I just wanted to make sure you didn't, y'know, fall down and, like, die or somethin'." He paused to think. "Are you okay, though? You don't look so good."

  
"I'm fine." Charles checked his watch and saw that he was past due for another dose of DayQuil. Great, his whole schedule was ruined. He started to dig around in his drawers as he spoke, unable to remember what he'd done with the bottle. That was a bad sign. His sinuses throbbed. "Perfectly fine," he said more to himself than anything.

  
"Y'sure?" Pickles did not look convinced. He stared down at Charles, a frown darkening his face. "You sound a little..."

  
Charles wasn't sure what to do. His head felt fuzzy and he couldn't think and he couldn't find the damn DayQuil and he had 78 unread emails-- "It's just a cold. It's not a big deal."

"Ohhh." This, at last, seemed to satisfy Pickles.

  
Charles' finally found the DayQuil, locked in a bottom drawer with some old personnel files. He poured out a dose and swallowed it without hesitation.

  
Pickle's eyes followed the movement, the sloshing of the liquid in the bottle. "You're taking care of yourself, right? You always take care of us."

  
This, at least, Charles had an answer for; the familiar relief of pragmatism. "Taking care of you is taking care of me, seeing as how you're the ones who make the money."

  
"Well, yeah, but." Pickles looked puzzled. "Wait, does that make me your boss?"

  
"Yes," Charles said plainly, not liking where this was going. The DayQuil had dulled his senses and lowered his guard. He eyed the bottle with mistrust. Maybe it was time to stop taking it. He needed a clear head to properly do his job.

  
"Then, as your boss, I order you to take a day off."

  
Charles' computer screen lit up. Another email. His hand moved reflexively toward the mouse, but Pickles lunged forward with surprising agility and pinned Charles' hand to the desk. "Nope! Your day off starts now."

  
"This could cost us money," Chales protested weakly. His head throbbed and spun.

  
"Fuck money."

  
Charles lowered his head in defeat.

Through some miracle of tenacity and lower body strength, Pickles' managed to haul Charles all the way down to Pickles' bedroom, something Charles didn't catch onto until he was halfway to laying down in Pickles' bed.

  
"Pickles," he said sternly.

  
"Relax, Charlie, you look like you need a nap. That's all."

  
"I do have my own bedroom." Charles settled back into the sheets, catching the faint odor of stale cigarette smoke.

  
"You really want me in there fuckin' around with all your stuff? Smashin' all your lamps?"

  
"I guess not." The part of Charles' brain that wasn't drowning in cold medicine was screaming for him to regain control. What if there was an emergency? He started to get up and was surprised when Pickles pushed him back down.

  
"Calm down there, chief. Nothing bad is gonna happen because you took a day off."  
Charles couldn't help but push back. "I have a job to do."

  
"Don't make me sit on you."

  
"What?" Startled, Charles relaxed and let Pickles push him back onto the mattress.  
"I said, don't make me sit on you." Deftly, Pickles swung his leg onto the bed and straddled Charles.

  
Charles braced for impact but Pickles balanced on his legs, putting just enough pressure on Charles' stomach to keep him pinned. "Oh," he said, otherwise at a loss for words. The warm weight of Pickles' body was surprisingly comforting.

  
"I gotta get me some of that cold medicine," Pickles murmured.

  
"Hm?"

  
"Look at you, all high off your ass."  
"I'm not," Charles protested sleepily. "I'm in control."

  
"Yeah, yeah. Captain of the ship." Pickles rolled his eyes. "Are you gonna sleep now or do I have to stay on top of you?"

  
Charles closed his eyes and let the room spin. "Stay."

  
"Yeah? Right here?"

  
"Mm." Despite himself, Charles was half asleep.

  
"I guess I could take a nap," Pickles muttered. He leaned forward and undid Charles' tie, dropping it carelessly off the side of the bed. Then he took off his glasses and dropped them next to the tie. "That's better." He climbed off Charles and curled up next to him.

  
Charles shifted subconsciously to move closer and Pickles laughed quietly.

  
"I knew you couldn't resist me, Charlie."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've never posted a multichapter story on mobile before, this is weird  
> Pls let me know if I screw up the formatting!!!

For the better part of two days, Magnus Hammersmith had been glued to his couch.

He'd woken up after a night of tequila shots and bong rips feeling  _ off,  _ parked his ass on the couch, and stayed there while a fever began to smolder under his skin.

He'd taken what was left of the tequila along with him to help with him to help ease the sting of his sore throat, but that barely lasted half an hour.

Now, as the sun reached its zenith in the sky, he clung half-conscious to the empty bottle and  _ burned _ .

The dull pounding of somebody's fist hammering on his front door sent Magnus reeling. He jerked awake and immediately started to cough, his knuckles going white against the neck of the tequila bottle.

The knocking continued. Magnus collapsed back against the couch's armrest and wheeled.

"Hey, Magnus! It's your bestest pal Toki! We'se supposed to hang outs today, remember?"

Magnus hurled the empty tequila bottle at the door and fell back fighting for breath. The bottle didn't even make it halfway across the room, falling to the floor with a loud  _ thud _ .

"Magnus?" Toki stopped knocking. "Is you ams okay? The doorknob turned.

Magnus closed his eyes. The door opened and shut. He could practically hear the gears turning in Toki's head as he approached, the tread of his boots heavy on the floor.

"Maaagnus?" A sing-songy whisper. "Dids you overdose or something? Hey, if I saves your life that makes us even, huh?" The footsteps stopped. Magnus didn't want to move but he forced his eyes open before Toki could, Odin forbid, try to give him mouth-to-mouth. "Hey, Toki."

Toki sighed in relief. "Oh good, you's not dead. You look  _ real _ bad." His brow furrowed in thought. "If you's hungover, Toki knows a real good cure! Have you heard of lutefisk?"

Magus rolled over and coughed so hard his eyes started to water. The one upside was that Toki stopped talking and stepped back to watch Magnus hack up his lungs and probably half of his other vital organs too.

The silence was not long-lived. Magnus finally caught his breath and clawed himself up to a seated position to better defend himself should the need arise.

Toki was studying him thoughtfully. "Oh, you is just regular sick."

"Yeah," Magnus said. His voice was raspy and it hurt to talk. "Think it's just the flu or something." He paused. "I've been trying to sleep it off," he added pointedly.

"How long you been sick?"

"I don't know." Magnus cleared his throat but his voice remained hoarse. "Couple of days, I guess."

"Mm-hm." Toki was nodding thoughtfully, his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth. He bent suddenly at the waist and placed his hand to the underside of Magnus' jaw. "Yep."

"What?" Toki's hand was cool and smelled faintly of Krazy Glue. Magnus found himself leaning into the touch.

"You ams got yourself a fever."

"I kinda figured."

Toki withdrew his hand and Magnus couldn't suppress a sigh of disappointment.

"That's okay, pal! I helps you out!"

"Ketamine," Magnus said instantly.

"Ketamine ams not what makes you better," Toki said. "You needs the T-L-K."

"What?"

"You know, um." Toki's face screwed up in thought. "Tender… love…"

"TLC," Magnus rasped.

"That's what I meants!" Toki snapped his fingers. "That's what you needs. Not ketamine."

"Alright." Magnus was really too tired to argue. "Could I have some water, then?"

"Yep!" Toki disappeared into the kitchen, where he proceeded to make far too much noise. Nothing shattered, so Magnus stayed put until Toki returned. "Is this all that's the TLC is?" he asked Magnus.

Magnus reached his hand out to take the water glass but Toki didn't seem to notice. "It doesn't seems too special," he continued thoughtfully. "Maybe I buys you chicken strips."

"Toki," Magnus prompted.

"Oh, right!" Toki handed over the water.

Magnus pounded it so fast he almost choked. "Thank you."

"Welcome. You takes any medicine or anything?"

"Uh." Magnus nodded toward the empty tequila bottle that was still lying in the middle of the floor.

Toki shook his head. "Wowie, you ams sure lucky I comes by.

"Yeah."

"How abouts I get you a blanket or something? Or more water?"

"Toki? Could you--" Magnus hesitated. His thoughts swam in his head, fractured and confused. He was so  _ hot _ and his body hurt. "Could you, um." He wasn't even sure what he really wanted. The memory of Toki's hand on his jaw lingered. He lowered his head, confused.

Being soft was fine when it was an act. Hell, being soft  _ was _ the act. Something about being this sick made him feel like he wasn't in control, like the animal part of his brain was seeking out whatever it could find to feel better.

_ That _ , Magnus could understand. He had been denied the chemical relief of hard drugs and now his brain was reaching out for whatever comfort was left. And what was left was Toki. That was fine then. That made sense. And Magnus  _ did _ want to feel better.

"Magnus?" Toki prompted. "If you's going to pass out, let me know so I can catch you."

"It's not that." Magnus stifled a cough into his arm. "I just want-- Why don't you come sit down and we can talk for a bit?"

Toki's eyes lit up. "Really? And you won't just pretend to likes it to be polite like when you lets me hug you?"

Magnus winced. "I mean it."

"You's  _ different  _ when you ams sick." Toki cuddled up next to Magnus, wrapping himself around Magnus' arm. "Is this okay? You feel hot."

"This is perfect." Magnus let his head rest on Toki's shoulder. "Just what I wanted."

"What did you wants to talk about?"

"I don't know." Magnus tried to think of something he knew Toki would like, but nothing came to mind.

Toki laced his fingers through Magnus' own. "Maybe Toki tells you a bedtime story."

"Maybe," Magnus agreed. He closed his eyes.

"Hm. I gots to come up with a totally brutal bedtime story, then. As brutal as a fever melting your brains."

Magnus couldn't help but chuckle, though he didn't open his eyes. "Sure, lay one on me." Toki liked to talk. Letting Toki talk would make him happy, would make him trust Magnus more. This was all part of the plan. 

"Maybe I tells you about the trolls. Or why Mr Bear has a short tail."

"Anything," Magnus murmured against Toki's shoulder.

"You seems like you's falling asleep already."

"I'm awake."

"You can fall asleep on me. I won't tell anyone."

"Thanks, Toki."

Magnus  _ did _ try to sleep. He kept his eyes closed and tried to relax, but brain refused to slow. If anything, his thoughts spiraled faster and faster the longer he sat there with his head resting gently on Toki's shoulder and the old anger bubbled up. Anger that he'd been betrayed, anger that his hand had been forced like this, anger at himself for not wanting to hurt Toki.

It clawed at him so hard it was almost physically painful, filling his chest with heat and rage.

Magnus shot upright and started coughing. He doubled over, gasping and hacking, desperate to soothe the violent spasms.

They just  _ wouldn't stop _ and his vision was starting to tunnel, Toki was talking in his ear--

By some miracle, Magnus was able to stop coughing. He slumped back against the couch and made a noise of annoyance. "Fuck the flu."

"Ams you okay?!" Toki demaned, shaking Magnus' shoulder. "You scared me! I thoyghts you was asleep and then you's--

"I'm okay," Magnus rasped.

"Maybe I gets you some medicine so you don't cough so much."

"I dom't think I have any, but you can check." Magnus didn't open his eyes, but he felt Toki get up.

"You gots a whole bottle of cough syrup in here!" Toki called.

Magnus frowned. "You sure."

"Mm-hm." Toki came back to the living room. "See?"

Magnus opened his eyes and lifted his head. Sure enough, Toki was holding a bottle of Robitussin. "Oh, yeah. I bought that for insomnia."

"So it stops you's cough and makes you sleepy?"

"That's the idea."

"Okay!" Toki sat back down beside Magnus. "Then I pours you out a dose. TLC."

Magnus would have preferred to just take a swig from the bottle, but he sat back and let Toki muddle through the directions and carefully pour out exactly one dose of cough syrup into the little plastic cup and hand it over.

"Thanks," Magnus said, throwing it back.

"Skål," Toki said cheerfully. "How long does it take to work?"

"I dunno."

"Here." Toki scooted to the far side of the couch. "Why don't you puts your head in my lap? Toki wills make sure you don't have any more bad dreams."

Magnus shrugged and curled up with his head in Toki's lap. "Bad dreams?"

"Yeah. When you's were sleeping before, you looked real sad and you breathing's real loud."

"Oh."

Toki began to stroke Magnus' hair, careful not to get his fingers caught in the tangles. "You wants to talk about it?"

"No." Magnus didn't feel like lying, and the truth was obviously out of the question. His fever still had him feeling out of sorts and now the haze of the cough syrup was beginning to descend on his mind. "Tell me about the trolls or something."

"Toki can do that!"

"Thank you," Magnus murmured.

Toki's voice filled his head and Magnus focused on it. He didn't have to think about anything else.

He could just listen to Toki, and finally relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again PLEASE don't hesitate to tell me about any formatting errors or typos  
> Typing on a phone is hell

**Author's Note:**

> Upon re-re-reading both chapters I guess another theme is "cold medicine making you loopy af" 🤔
> 
> Anyway, as always, thank you for reading and please feel free to point out any typos or formatting errors  
> I have to write and post from my phone so there's always at least one typo in every story I write 😭


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